Free Run With Me by L. A. Shorter Page A

roads in the area, and anyone heading
north will have gone straight down this one.
    It only takes me about 10
minutes before I pull over once more to the right. There's a basic
parking lot and a series of trailers set aside off the road, each
with a numbered door: 1, 2, 3, all the way up to 20. I scan the cars
and see no sign of the red Vauxhall Corsa I'm searching for. I step
from the car and walk towards the reception trailer. Inside is a man
doing a crossword as a fan blows from side to side. It looks hot and
humid inside. His sweat stained vest and beady brow tell me that.
    I pull out a picture of Kitty
and ask if he's seen her. After a brief moment of doubt he shakes his
head. I don't trust him. I'm not a trusting person. So, I ask again,
this time tapping my pistol on the glass. His answer comes with more
urgency, but remains the same. He hasn't seen her, and she's not
staying here.
    Time to move on.
    Over the following hours I comb
the area moving northwards through central California. I only check
motels and cheap hotels – nothing fancy, nothing in populated
areas. This girl hasn't got much money, and she hasn't been using her
cards. She's living only on what cash she has on her, so she'll be
looking for the cheapest places possible.
    The light begins to fade and I
keep on pulling out Kitty's picture in front of disinterested
reception staff. Some of them have seen her on the news and make
comments like: “are you the police” and “did she really kill
her aunt and uncle”. Clearly some of the press have taken the fact
that the police are looking for Kitty and made it into a manhunt for
a murderer. I doubt that the police are thinking in such black and
white terms.
    Yet I enjoy no luck. No one has
seen her, and from what I can gather from listening to police
chatter, the cops haven't had any sightings of her or her car. It's
pushing past 10.30 PM when I find myself back in my car, my map
covered in crosses and marks to indicate where I've been. Over 20
places visited and no sign of her. Thankfully, my expectation had
been kept in check, so I'm not disappointed. I know how long and
arduous some 'hunts' can be. Depending on who you're tracking, they
can go on for weeks or more quite easily. But I know, in this case,
that won't happen. With the cops after her, there's no way a girl
like this can stay hidden for long unless she gets help.
    I grab a bottle of water from a
cooler I've had installed in front of the passenger seat and gulp
down half of its contents. As I do, I hear a crackle over my police
scanner, followed by a tinny voice.
    “ Dispatch, this is base. We've
had a sighting of Kitty Munroe north of Corcoran on Randall's Farm.
The owner says she parked on their track overnight and has just
driven away now. We don't know if she's headed north or south....”
    As I listen to the police call I
quickly grab the map. I'm close, only about 5 miles to the north
east. She'll be heading north, away from LA , I think to
myself. I check my clock again: 10.40 PM. A moment later my engine in
roaring and I'm shooting down the road heading west to her location.
    It doesn't take me long to reach
the only road heading north from Randall's Farm. It's been less than
5 minutes when I cruise to a stop on the side of the road and wait,
several miles up from where the track to the farm meets the main
road. If she's headed south, there's no way I'll catch her. But I
know she won't be. She's going north, and she won't have passed yet.
    The road is quiet and dark, the
night sky now blanketed with a thick layer of cloud. I shut off my
lights and wait, listening for any updates over the radio. Then I
hear the sound of sirens coming from behind. It sounds like two
police cars, at least a mile away. All of a sudden, the road lights
up in a bright burst as a set of headlamps appear from around the
corner behind me. Then the sound of a car rushing by fills the air,
and I hit the gas, flicking on my own lights as I rush forward